


Raggedy Role-Play Reversal

by The Thirteenth Doctor (Ennaejj)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Amy dressed as Raggedy Doctor, Centurion!Rory, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multi, One-Shot, PWP, Pandorica, cross dressing, kink-meme prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 06:56:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2419292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ennaejj/pseuds/The%20Thirteenth%20Doctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New fill for an old Eleventy-kink prompt.  </p><p>Amy finds the "Raggedy Doctor" costume and suggests she and Rory play their old game--but with a mature twist.  Rory can't fit the clothes anymore, so Amy advocates for a little role-reversal.  Surprisingly, Rory's onboard.  In fact, once they get going, he's rather enthusiastic.  Maybe *too* enthusiastic.  He sounds unusually comfortable shouting out, "Oh, Doctor!" as he takes her from behind.</p><p>Amy/Rory smut with references to Rory/Doctor, and a little emotional h/c.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Raggedy Role-Play Reversal

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for a very old request on the Eleventy-kink meme ( http://eleventy-kink.livejournal.com/942.html?thread=2546606#t2546606 ). This version differs slightly from the fill posts, but only because I had to cut some words for LJ (due to character-count limits on comments). Takes place post "The God Complex," pre series six finale.

Closet cleaning was the last thing Amy wanted to do on a Saturday afternoon. But Rory insisted, because it needed doing, and since "this was their life now"--now that the Doctor had officially dropped them off and said farewell (at least, for the time being)--it was time to responsible-it-up.

From the depths of their cupboard, they pulled piles of ratty skirts, tights with holes in them, and stained scrubs. And jumpers, sooo many jumpers. 

But it wasn't until they opened up the old boxes in the back that things got interesting.

"Oi, look what I found!" She waved a tattered blue shirt in the air.  "It's all here.  The tie, the trousers, everything.  Even the wig!"

"Wow. Haven't done 'Raggedy Doctor' in ages," Rory said, taking the shirt and stretching it taut between his hands.

"It's held up better than I would have thought. Everything else in here is dusty and moth eaten.  But this can't have seen the light of day since, what?  Weren't we fourteen the last time I made you wear it?"

A far-away look inhabited Rory's gaze for a moment before he shook his head and bunched the shirt in his fists. "Yeah.  Fourteen.  I might have taken it out a couple times since then, though," he said sheepishly.

"You did? Why?"  Amy smiled to herself.   He was so cute when he got all sentimental.

He shrugged noncommittally. "I just...donno.  Sometimes I miss--" he cut himself short and swallowed dryly.  "I miss Raggedy Doctor."

"We stopped playing because you said you didn't like it. I was happy to keep it up indefinitely."  With a flourish, she draped the tie around her neck and threw one end over her shoulder as though it were a feather boa.

He ran a hand over his hair and his cheeks flushed. "Well, it was a bit awkward, wasn't it?  You always made me change into the costume in front of you. _You_ might not have given it a second though.  But for me...  Look, when you're a fourteen-year-old boy you start to get a bit self-conscious about taking your clothes off in front of a girl when you fancy her.  I was afraid I might, you know..."

Amy pressed up against his side and smirked. All these years together and she could still reduce him to a flustered, adolescent-like state.  Whispering directly into his ear she asked, "Did our game make you hard?"

"The words 'naked' and 'Amy' bouncing around the same bit of gray matter made me hard."

"Mmm." She gave him a wink. "Well then, I suggest we play. Let's see if we can't modernize it--you know, make it a bit more _mature_."

He un-bunched the shirt. "I can't fit this anymore.  It was big back in the day, but thankfully I've beefed up."

"Beefed up? For the sake of the game, I'll let that slide."  She pursed her lips, disappointed.  She liked discovering that Rory had once found Raggedy Doctor too sexy to continue.  All those times she'd kissed him while he wore that swirly blue tie and she'd had no idea--in fact, he was so hesitant during the stolen kisses she'd convinced herself he must be gay.  After all, other boys were enthusiastic when she kissed _them_.  Young Amelia had no sense of bashfulness--its definition, or how it could apply to her scrawny Rory.

Amy sat down heavily on the bed and took the shirt from him. "Ah well.  I guess later we could go to the store and buy a new--"  A wicked idea interrupted her.  "Or, _or_ \-- _I_ could do it.  I could repay you for all those awkward times.  I could be the Raggedy Doctor come to take you away, and you can make me change in front of _you_."  Amy stood and clutched the shirt to her chest.  "Amy and naked," she said with another wink.

"You want to dress up as the Doctor?"

Amy was already shrugging off her leather jacket. She whipped her shirt over her head, and her bra quickly followed.  The air in the room was cool against her exposed breast, raising her nipples into hard little peaks. "You object?" she asked, knowing full well he wouldn't.

Per usual, Rory lost the ability to form coherent sentences the moment her tits were in full view. "I, uh...Right.  Raggedy Doctor, come to take me away."  He closed his eyes, his lips slightly parted.  "I--I don't know.  Raggedy Doctor.  Raggedy Doctor," he mumbled.

He seemed to be wrestling with himself. Amy frowned.  Normally he blindly agreed to her shag-related proposals.  Rory hadn’t been this hesitant to play a sex game since before they were engaged.  Back before Prisoner Zero. In fact, she could remember it vividly--she'd insisted he fuck her in a supplies cupboard at the hospital, and he'd been paranoid that someone would find them and he'd lose his job.

"Rory? What's the matter?"

But then she realized what was strange about her suggestion. This wasn't their childhood game.  They knew the Doctor, loved him.  Having your wife dress up as your best friend for a fuck could be construed as odd.

Impulsively, she slipped closer, pressing her breasts against his chest. She ran her painted nails over his cheek and kissed him softly.  His eyes fluttered open.

"The clothes can come back off whenever you want," she promised.

A slight nod indicated he was onboard. His pupils had bloomed, big and dark, and his chest heaved with little stuttering breaths.

She kissed him again as her vulva began to tingle, and when his tongue pressed its way between her lips, a warm rush of wetness slicked the apex of her legs.

The beginnings of arousal we her favorite. Nothing could beat an orgasm, of course, but there was something about the early stages, when all of the sensations were separate and identifiable.  When she could feel her labia swelling, her entire pussy heating up.  When there was a sexy tickle right where her wet folds met perineum.  When the pressure of her own panties against her mons and clit sent waves of anticipation through her legs and stomach.

God, she loved being married to a nurse. Before he'd gone down on her the first time he'd insisted she learn all the names for her lady parts so she could correctly direct him.  Short of dressing up like a Roman, that was the sexiest thing he'd ever done for her. 

How had she gotten so lucky? Amy was sure one day she'd find the catch.  No man was this perfect.

Rory's hands pressed against her bare back, holding her steady as they kissed. Mmm, he always tasted so good.  Cinnamony.  Reluctantly, she pushed away.  It would be nice to let his wonderful mouth usher them straight into a shag, but she was determined to play the game.

She held him at arm's length while she finished stripping. She slowly removed her leggings and her skirt, saving her lacy knickers for last.  With the way the Doctor moved around the TARDIS, spinning and swaying--so unrestricted--she was sure he went commando. 

Of course, she'd never tell Rory she'd spent time contemplating what king of underwear--or lack-there-of--the Doctor wore.

Hooking her thumbs into the sides of her knickers, she turned around and pushed them down to her ankles, bending over as she went, giving Rory an open view of her ass and swollen pussy.

She shivered as one of Rory's fingers plunged into her from behind. He thrust it up to the hilt, then pulled out slowly.  She could feel her pussy coating the digit, and she flexed her insides, enjoying the way his finger slid against her ridges.  When his finger was finally free, he ran it up the length of her folds.

Flipping her hair out of her face, Amy glanced over her shoulder in time to see Rory pop his middle finger into his mouth. He sucked on it with an audible "Mmmm," which sent a renewed flood between her legs.

It took all of her will power not to knock him to the ground and ride him right then and there.

She righted herself, then scooped up the trousers. They'd be a bit short, but that was ok--the Doctor liked his highwaters, didn't he?  Lying across the bedspread, she wiggled into them, enjoying this striptease-in-reverse.  Then came the shirt--which she shrugged on while thrusting her chest forward--and the tie. 

She caught a faint whiff of something; a spicy male scent that wasn't Rory's. It almost smelled like...like the Doctor.  But that was silly, he'd never actually worn the shirt. 

Standing, she tucked the shirttails half in, half out of the trousers, then tied her hair back. Last came the wig.  Rory's hair had never quite flopped the same way the Doctor's had, and she could remember how her heart had fluttered when she'd found this perfect facsimile in a costume store's bargain bin. 

Amy brushed the wig's fringe out of her eyes and tried to stand awkwardly, with her hands clasped before her, wrists loose.

"So, what do you think?" she asked.

Rory's mouth hung open as though it were mid-word, but nothing came out. His eyes scanned her from head to foot. Evidently he was pleased, if the bulge near his inseam was anything to go by.

"Rory," she said, reaching out for him. He took her hand slowly, like he was in a dream.  "Wonderful Rory," she went on, trying to affect the Doctor's lilt.  "Fantastic Rory. _Gorgeous_ Rory.  Would you like to see my spaceship?"  She yanked him to her, so they were flush against each other, face to face.  "It's bigger on the inside, you know."

With that she slid her hand between his legs and cupped his erection. "What do you say? _Cum_ with me?  I'll make you forget all about space and time, but I'm sure you'll like what I have to show you.  Hmm?"

He nodded eagerly.

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes," he breathed.

Secretly, she wanted him to say it. Just once, exactly like that--all husky and soft. _Doctor_.  "Yes, what?"

"Yes, I'll come with you."

Darn, so close.

Rory's expression changed suddenly. His jaw set, and his eyes narrowed.  He pressed his lips into a firm line.  She'd seen this a few times before.  It was the look he got when--for a moment--he stopped being Rory Williams from Leadworth and transformed into the Last Centurion.

Interesting. Previously, she'd only been able to coax forth the Centurion when he was wearing his uniform. What could have triggered it this time?

Not that she was complaining. He caught the tie in a firm fist and used it to drag her forward.  Their lips met, crushing against each other.  This time his tongue demanded entry, surging forth like solider claiming a strategic vantage point. 

She went weak in the knees, but he held her up. The disconcerted, adolescent Rory was gone.  Now he was authoritative, imposing--

A proper Roman.

Her fingers fumbled at his fly, trying desperately to free his cock. She needed him inside her, now.  He knocked her hands away and unzipped himself, pushing his shirt up and jeans down just far enough to show off his treasure-trail, letting his dick escape its confines.

Amy's mouth watered. She loved everything about Rory's cock--how long and thick it was, how it angled to the left when he was hard, how the wide head had a freckle near the slit.  Precum had already gathered on his tip, and she longed to taste it.

But Rory had other ideas.

She moved to unbutton her shirt, but he stilled her fingers. "Turn around for me," he ordered.

With a little thrill zinging through her stomach, she turned to face the bed. Immediately, Rory place a hand between her shoulder blades to indicate she should bend.  When she leaned forward, he grabbed her ass, yanking it back to rest flush against his pelvis.  She braced herself against the mattress.  "That's good, Doctor," he praised. 

 _Oh, god_.  Hearing her husband say another man's name should not have made her pussy pulse.  It should not have made her quiver, should not have made her juices flow.  And she shouldn't want him to say it again--shouldn't _ache_ for him to say it again.

Rory rested his cock between her clothed ass cheeks, letting her feel the weight, and rocked back and forth ever so slightly, teasing.

"Are you going to show me the stars, Doctor?" he asked.

She moaned an affirmative.

Rory yanked her trousers down, sending a cool rush of air against her ass and pussy lips. She was so ready for him, needed him so badly.  As he brushed the head of his cock against her, she bucked backward, urging him in.

He rewarded her eagerness with a hefty slap on the ass. She cried out in pleasant surprise.  Amy liked it rough, but it was usually difficult to get Rory to do anything that might leave a mark.  Maybe they'd have to play _Amy the Raggedy Doctor_ more often.

"Again," she begged, and he complied, laying two swats across her backside.

Wanting to catch a glimpse of his brooding Centurion expression, she glanced over her shoulder. And catch it she did.  Dark, serious--he looked like a man undertaking a mission significant to the security of the Empire; as though making sure Amy got a good shagging was the most important task in the world.

"Eyes front," he ordered when he caught her looking.

When she complied, he leaned over her back to whisper in her ear, keeping his cock poised at her entrance. "The Doctor doesn't-- _wouldn't_ \--he wouldn't watch while he's getting fucked."

Before she could reply, Rory pushed the head of his cock between her folds and sank into her pussy.

He filled her up so completely, stretched her so nicely. Amy rolled her hips and Rory began moving in long, slow thrusts, in and out, with his hands grasping her ass. He held her so tightly she was sure she'd have bruises tomorrow.

Gibberish ran through her brain as she slid back and forth on the length of his dick.  She could ride his cock until the end of time, and possibly she'd done just that at some point and _god_ oh, Rory, right fucking _there_.

He'd never been much for verbalizing during sex.  Normally her screaming drowned out anything he might mumble, anyway.  But this time she bit back her yells, hoping beyond hope to hear another errant--

"Doctor," he grunted, picking up the pace.  "You knew I'd wait for you.  Waiting's all I ever did.  Doctor, uhn... _Doctor_."

 _Wow, he's really getting into the part_ , she thought. 

He slammed into her again and again.  She flexed, making her muscles ripple around his cock.  The added tightness, the added tug, sent extra licks of pleasure through her lower half.  Her pussy felt like it was winding up--her orgasm began building in the depths of her body.  Every inch of her was alight. 

Amy tried to stay quiet, but she couldn't help it.  As her pleasure rose, so did her volume.  She cried out with each punctuated thrust.  " _Ah, yes. Please, yes_!"

Occasionally Rory spoke, so softly she missed most of what he said. He slapped her rear again--quick, with a flat palm.  Once, twice, and again.  "...damn bastard, sometimes making me go centuries between..."

She couldn't have heard that right.  What would it even mean?

"Oh, uhhhn, damn.  Doctor. _Doctor_."

The way the word rolled off his tongue should have given her pause.  Something in the back of her mind perked, waving a little yellow flag, telling her to hold on a second while it investigated this unusual tidbit.

But the majority of Amy wasn't listening to the reasonable portions of her brain right now.  She was brimming with energy, ready to release it all, getting off on how utterly stiff Rory's cock was--like a damn steel rod sheathed in silk.

 _One more time, one more time_ , she chanted as she clenched her pussy.

"Oh, god, YES-- _DOCTOR_!" Rory growled out as he slammed into her extra hard.

A flood of cum filled her, stretching her further as he pounded deeper, finding that perfect spot inside her.  Rory's orgasm, combined with _that name_ , sent her over the edge.

The coil that had been tightening between her legs sprang free, releasing waves of ecstasy through her pussy, into her abdomen and up her limbs.  Her lips and fingers tingled, and her eyelashes fluttered.  Her world stopped turning for a moment, shrank down--reduced to a single point of utter pleasure.

After long moments, when the pulses of delight had subsided and hear ears were roaring like rain-sticks, Rory pulled out.  A trickle of his cum spilled out from between her folds.  Normally she would have run her fingers through her soiled pussy lips, reveling in the evidence, but that little yellow flag in the back of her mind had grown.  As she came down from the high, the warning flag swelled in her vision, blotting out everything else.

There it was: the catch she'd been waiting for.

 _No man is_ that _perfect._

Amy yanked off the wig, rolled over, and tossed the hairpiece at Rory.

He'd stumbled backward and now braced himself against the dresser, his pants still low on his hips, his cock still half-hard.  Deftly, he caught the wig.

"You fucked him," she said frankly, her voice abnormally high. "I don't know how or when, but you _fucked_ the Doctor."

"I..." He looked down at the wig, then up at his wife, then at the wig again. 

Her Flustered Rory had returned. 

Amy wasn't angry, exactly.  She was more astonished than anything.  "With all our running around, when did you have time to screw him without me noticing?  Was it at the hotel?  In one of those fucked up rooms?"

He chucked the wig back at her, but missed.  It landed harmlessly on the bedspread.  "Two thousand years.  I had _two thousand years_ to fuck him," he yelled before dropping his head into his hands.

Oh.  Right.

She buttoned up her trousers, then went to him.  She wrapped her hands around his and lowered them away from his eyes, doing her best to wear an open, kind expression.

 "Why do you think I told you I couldn’t remember?" he asked quietly.  "Told you both. _He_ doesn’t even know I remember.  It happened in another reality--another universe.  I thought it best if we just pretended like it didn't happen at all."

 She bit her lip.  Could she really fault him for this?  He'd protected her for two millennia, alone.  No human being was expected to endure that kind of solitude.

"Come here."  She led him to the bed and they sat down together.  "It's alright.  I don't understand how, though.  The universe was collapsing, but the Doctor...?" she trailed off, leading him into an explanation.

 Rory took a deep breath.  Though she stared at him intently, he wouldn't meet her gaze.  "He had the vortex manipulator, so he used it to check on me.  The first few times it was just, 'Oh, Rory, there you are.  Holding up?  Alright then.'  And he'd pop off again.  But when I hit the five-hundred year mark it was tough.  I'd had to move the Pandorica for the third time, and all the wars were starting to get to me.  I only asked him to stay for a few minutes, I swear, that was all I asked.  I didn't mean...I wasn't planning to..."  He shrugged and laughed at himself. 

She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.  "Tell me," she purred.  "What did my boys go through together?"  She laid her hand on his inner thigh, near his exposed cock.  Clearly he'd _enjoyed_ being with the Doctor.  And if she thought about it, the idea of the two of them together--touching, grasping, licking--gave her butterflies.  Her husband and her Raggedy Man had pleasured each other?  Yeah, she could work with that.

 "He hugged me," Rory said.  "That was it--what started it.  I hadn't had so much as a handshake in centuries.  So I--I kissed him.  And he let me.  So I kissed him some more."  A sudden realization hit him, and he turned to Amy, his bashfulness forgotten.  "Oh my god.  I don't know why I never thought about it before.  But you're right, the universe was collapsing, so it all happened--  For me it was two thousand years, but for him...it had to have been less than a day."

"Why does that matter?"

"We had sex _seventeen times_. No wonder he left me alone for hundred-year stretches.  I might have torn him in two if he'd popped in more often." 

Clearly the insight mortified Rory, and her hopes of _Amy the Raggedy Doctor: Round Two_ dwindled for now.

"Ok," she said.  "The next time the Doctor shows up, you owe him an apology.  And flowers.  Maybe dinner.  Luckily you destroyed his body in a different reality, so he should be doing alright now."

"Maybe that's why he didn't say goodbye to me after he gave us the house and the car.  Because I nearly fucked him to death."

Amy smiled.  Poor, silly, clueless Rory.  "Oh, Stupid Face.  You don't give a man a car if he didn't earn it."

"What do you mean?"

"I think the Doctor left before he could beg you to break in the brand-new back seat. _If you know what I mean_."

 

 


End file.
